


5 People Who Thought Loki Was Gay and One Who Knew Otherwise

by startrekfanwriter



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, Norse Mythology, The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Gen, Genderqueer Character, Genderswap, Homophobia, Humor, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-25
Updated: 2012-10-20
Packaged: 2017-11-12 21:32:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startrekfanwriter/pseuds/startrekfanwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite what everyone in Asgard thinks, Loki is not gay. Really! He's hopelessly straight, even when he's female. Thor on the other hand...This of course causes no bitterness at all. Sif, Thor, Fandral, Volstagg, Stark, Steve Rogers, Darcy, Humor, Angst, Romance - surprise pairing at the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Saumason, The Royal Tailor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't own. I don't profit.

Loki is a big boy, he's five years old. And today is a big day; he is choosing his colors. Loki glances up beside him, his mother is there, as well as some of her maids. She nods encouragingly.

Saumason, the Royal Tailor stands before him. Behind Saumason are bolts of many different fabrics. The man is tall, and very, very, skinny. He is dressed all in black. Over his shirt and breeches he wears a very tight vest and it's filled with rather long frightening pins.

"Have you chosen the color for your cape, Your Highness?" the tailor says, bowing before Loki.

Straightening, Loki lifts his chin. "Indeed I have, Kind Sir. But I don't see the color I desire among your fabrics."

The tailor stands. "And what color is that, Your Highness?"

Loki smiles, he's thought a lot about this and he knows the perfect choice. "Pink," he says.

The tailor's mouth drops. Behind Loki a he hears a collective intake of breath.

He has this horrible feeling he's done something wrong. Is pink too mighty a color for a little boy? No, he is a  _big_  boy, that can't be the case. Could there have been some villainous despot in history whose color was pink? Loki's sure he doesn't know of one. Swallowing, Loki says, "Thor's color is red, pink is the brother of red, therefore, pink..."

He looks anxiously around the room. One of the maids titters. Frigga puts her hands on Loki's shoulders.

The tailor takes a deep breath. "Your majesty, pink is a color for girls."

Loki scowls. "That's not fair." How can girls claim ownership of an entire color?

"How about green?" says Frigga. "It is the complementary color of red and it will match your eyes Loki."

Even his mother is against him! Is it because she is a girl and doesn't want to share pink?

"But I like pink," Loki says softly. It is the color of the Asgardian sky at sunrise. And Sif's lips and cheeks after she's been in a tussle with Thor.

No one seems to have heard him. Turning the tailor says, "I have just the thing!"

He comes back to Loki with a swathe of dark green fabric. Winking at the boy, he says, "Now this is a color that is very manly, and will get you a fine wife someday."

"Wife?" says Loki. "I don't want a wife." Taking a wife would mean leaving the house of his parents, and he never wants to leave his parents.

"Someday you will crave the company of girls, believe me, and you'll want to get married," says the tailor as he sets down the cloth and takes out a measuring tape.

Loki feels his face flush. He hates it when adults seem to see through him. He already craves the company of girls. He has...imaginings at night. Ever since the survival instructor told Thor and Loki that to save someone who is very cold they must strip naked with them and curl up next them Loki has imagined Sif falling into icy water, or the pretty little daughter of Volstagg, Glut. In his imaginings Loki and Sif, or Loki and Glut, or Glut  _and_ Sif  _and_  Loki  _have to_  strip naked; and they  _have to_ lie next to one another. What happens after that is somewhat vague, but it fills Loki with a terrible, strange, feeling of want he can't explain. It's a little frightening. And embarrassing.

He thinks of the times he's gone skinny dipping with Thor and his friend Fandral, of lying back naked in the grass and looking at the clouds with them. He likes those times and the easy friendship. It's...it's...he thinks the word is uncomplicated.

"If I have to get married, I'm marrying a boy," he says folding his arms over his chest and scowling.

Saumason stops measuring the odd, dark haired boy that is the second prince. Prince Loki's face is as fine and delicate as a girl's. He's been told the child hasn't taken particularly to weapons training, and worse, without instruction the boy has already started performing magic - something no self respecting male would ever be caught doing.

Thankfully, this child is the spare, not the heir. He shakes his head. He always thought you could tell when they were young.


	2. Fandral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki is so beautiful, Fandral thinks. Next best thing to a woman indeed.

The arrow is flying straight to his forehead, and Loki can't move. He is frozen in place, not literally, that would be almost excusable. No, he is just petrified with fear. Or something. And now he is going to die, during the first salvo of his very first battle.

Its happening so fast he can't even be really afraid. But strangely, not fast enough that he isn't embarrassed.

There is a blur of gray and red and gold. A loud thwack. And then Thor is grappling him to the ground. Pulling Loki up as the rain of arrows ends, Thor says brusquely. "It happens to everyone the first time little brother. Now redeem yourself."

Loki does redeem himself. And Odin's forces win a decisive victory.

x x x x

20 hours later after a bloody senseless battle with the dwarfs, debriefings with generals, meetings with the troops, and tours of the wounded, Loki is in his and Thor's tent climbing out of the bath. The blood, sweat, dirt, and other dubious substances are gone from his skin. But despite his most valiant efforts, no matter how he scrubs he can't wash away the anger.

Toweling himself off, he slips on some breeches. And then he begins to pace. His thoughts slip to Sif walking among the troops, her lean frame slipping between the lines of men, ponytail bouncing behind her.

His jaw tenses. He wants to fuck. Loki closes his eyes. He'd left Thor, Sif and the Warriors Three to their own amusements. Seeing Sif standing so close to Thor, who just seemed so  _oblivious_ had made his blood go hot. Sif is Thor's intended, the union arranged by their families years ago now. And he admires Sif, she is one of the two women besides his mother he admires most in all of Asgard. He has no right to think of her thus. But he does.

He wipes his face with his hand. Jealousy is unbecoming, especially towards the man who is his brother and who just saved his life.

He looks down at himself, his state of semi-arousal visible through his trousers. It's not like he needs love or someone he admires right now anyway...just a fuck even would be...he shakes his wet hair. Something. A vent. A release of all the anger at this stupid battle, for this stupid strip of land and the greedy dwarves who had been their foes.

He lets out a long sigh of exasperation. He looks around the tent. Maybe while he is alone...

A guard slips into the tent. "Your Majesty. A visitor. Lord Fandral."

Loki's of half a mind to dismiss him, but instead says, "Let him in." It could be official business.

Fandral enters the tent, and turns immediately to the guard. "Privacy please. This is official business."

Loki tilts his head. The guard exits and draws the tent flap shut. The tent is enchanted, whatever Fandral says to Loki will be unheard. It is an excellent spell when one fears spies; it was cast by Odin himself. Loki wonders if he'll ever be so gifted.

"What is it?" Loki says, his voice coming out a snarl, though he doesn't mean it to be so.

Fandral begins walking towards him. He's bathed, his beard and hair are golden again, free of the blood that had been dried into them earlier.

"Keyed up a bit your Majesty?" Fandral says.

Loki tilts his head.

Fandral keeps coming forward until he is less than an arms reach away. "Do you feel battle  _lust_ , My Lord?"

Loki glares at him and feels his nostrils flare.

Fandral smiles. "I know you are inexperienced in these matters, but your Highness, in times like this when there are no women about, it is not unheard of for warriors to assist each other."

Loki rolls his eyes. He may not have  _experience_  in such things, but he's  _heard_  of such things. Normally he hears them with slight revulsion. And Fandral, even though he has just bathed, s so hairy, he smells like a man, and he's all sinew, muscle and hard angles.

But Loki is so  _angry_  and  _more_.

"What are you proposing?" Loki says his voice low.

Smiling, Fandral picks up his hand. Kissing it, eyes on Loki, he says, "Anything your majesty wishes." Placing another kiss on Loki's hand he says, "You are so, very, very, beautiful."

The hairs on the back of Loki's neck rise. Fandral is treating him like _the woman_. Loki tenses. He knows what Fandral wants to propose.

It may not be a shame to give another warrior a 'helping hand', but to be  _the woman_  - that is the highest shame imaginable. And why until recently Asgard's warriors would routinely rape their vanquished foes before castrating them.

That Fandral would think Loki would want to spread his legs for him...it's beyond being repulsive, it is the ultimate insult. He wants to punch Fandral in the face. Or fuck - but someone else. He thinks of Sif and pretty, blonde headed Glut.

Both far away and unreachable. He closes his eyes. His fists clench.

And then a wicked scheme forms in Loki's mind. Smirking he says, " _His Majesty_ would have you on your knees."

Fandral shrugs and smiles good naturedly. "Of course." He leans forward to plant a kiss on Loki's lips but Loki turns away and holds up a hand. "Just...just...get to it."

Shrugging again Fandral starts to place kisses down Loki's still bare chest.

Think of Glut. Think of Glut. Loki peeks down at Fandral's descending head and closes his eyes again.

Think of pretty blonde haired Glut.

Not of beards.

Glut. Glut. Glut.

Fandral's lips reach the lightly rippled plains of Loki's abdomen. He pauses his kisses to admire. Loki's waist is nearly slender as a womans, even if he is more muscular. Fandral gazes up at the young prince. Right now Loki's head is lifted up towards the ceiling, and all he can see is the underside of his fine boned chin. But it is of no consequence, Fandral knows Loki's face by heart, Loki's face is nearly are as slender and delicate as woman's too. And his whole body is nearly as hairless. Truly, Loki is next best thing to a woman. With a sigh, Fandral applies his lips once more to Loki's stomach, and imagines Loki naked, legs spread before him.

He hears a strangled noise from Loki's throat. It sounds almost like Glut. For a minute it gives Fandral pause. But of course, the young prince obviously just swallowed audibly in his excitement.

He proceeds with his ministrations, kissing Loki just below the navel in the light line of fine hair is just beginning to form there. The prince shivers.

Looking up, Fandral smiles. "My whiskers tickling you Your Majesty?"

Eyes closed, Loki hisses. "Just get on with it!"

"Eager." Fandral laughs and undoes Loki's breeches. The prince is already semi-erect. Fandral takes him in his hand, and then pulls him into his mouth. Fandral sucks greedily, and for a moment Loki hardens, but then he returns to his state of his semi-arousal. Fandral sucks harder. And softer. And he hums. He tries to pull Loki in deeply, he tries applying his tongue to the underside of Loki's shaft. His jaw is starting to hurt when he begins to get desperate. Thinking he know what will work he tries to put a hand up to Loki's ass, and gets it slapped painfully hard for his efforts.

Fandral pulls back. "Your Majesty?"

Rubbing his eyes, Loki says, "It's no use. I tried applying a spell to the South Granary to keep the rodents away and I know I messed it up."

Fandral's brow furrows.  _"Your Majesty!"_  That...that...is what Loki was thinking about during all his valiant efforts? Fandral's mouth drops.

Fastening his breeches Loki says, "It was your fault!"

"My fault?" says Fandral, taken aback.

"Bringing up whiskers," says Loki glaring at him. "How could I not think of the rodent infestation of the South Granary?"

Fandral blinks at the prince. "You don't like sex." It comes out a statement rather than a question.

Loki tilts his head and gives Fandral a withering stare. "Of course I like sex."

Fandral blinks again. "You've had sex?"

"Yes!" says Loki.

Still kneeling, Fandral scratches behind his head. "With a woman?"

Loki takes a step forward. His voice comes out a low hiss. "Why wouldn't it be with a woman?"

Fandral tilts his head. "Well, you like magic, and it's... _argr_..." he says using the Norse word for unmanly.

Loki's eyes go wide. "As does my father Odin! Are you accusing him of being  _argr_?"

Seeing a possible impending death sentence, Fandral holds up two hands. "No!"

Loki's eyes narrow. But his body relaxes a fraction.

Fandral blinks remembering Loki's strangled utterance. "With Glut?" Glut is Volstagg's pretty, young, bookish daughter. She has a lightening sharp tongue and clever wit. Volstagg fear's she'll never be married for both of them.

Loki's face reddens. "No, no, not with Glut. She is...she..she is one of the two women I admire most in all of Asgard...but her station...my parents...we'd never be allowed to marry." He swallows and tucks his chin down towards his chest. "She deserves better."

Fandral tilts his head. "Then who?"

Shrugging Loki says, "Skadi and Vord."

Fandral's brow furrows. "They're both -"

"Discreet," says Loki.

"I was going to say married," says Fandral.

Loki shrugs. "Hopelessly caught in unhappy arranged marriages. I like to think I help keep their marriages intact by supplying the affection they don't get from their husbands."

"Njörðr adores Skadi," says Fandral, more to himself. And she is so upright. Perhaps the prince is lying to him?

Loki doesn't seem to have heard him. Looking towards the ceiling of the tent he says, "And of course there is Freyja - she's...she's..." He grins. "Well, she's one of a kind. But even less interested in commitment than I am." He tilts his head as though embarrassed. "But what am I saying, you probably know exactly what I'm talking about."

"You had sex with Freyja?" says Fandral for the first time beginning to notice his knees are getting sore.

"You haven't?" says Loki.

Fandral's mouth drops open. He's saved from having to answer by the boom of Thor's voice behind him.

"Loki! Get out of here!"

Fandral's face goes red. Loki's face goes slack. "Thor, we were just...we...were...just..."

 

Fandral was just moments away from making Thor's darling younger brother into a woman. "I was fixing a rip in Loki's breechers," says Fandral quickly. He pats Loki's leg. "All done now."

He moves to stand, but Thor's voice booms again. "Stay where you are."

Fandral swallows.

Loki gives him an apologizing look. And then Thor fixes his gaze on Loki and says, "Out!"

Loki runs from the tent without bothering to put on a shirt. And then he runs to the edge of the camp. Bending over he catches his breath.

And there it hits him.

Thor is going to kill Fandral. Loki tries reminding himself that Fandral wanted to bugger him. And then he swallows. Fandral  _didn't_  bugger him, and in fact, Loki had tried to use him in an awful way...which granted, didn't work, and yes, Fandral looked like he was actually enjoying himself...but...Loki straightens and looks towards the tent he shares with Thor. He can't let Thor kill Fandral.

Biting his lip he marches back. What if Thor has already done it? Loki's stomach falls. He starts to run again and only slows when he reaches the guards. Marching past them he slips through the flap of the tent and lets it fall behind him. He is immediately assaulted with the sound of skin slapping against skin. For a moment he thinks Thor has merely decided to beat Fandral. But then his eyes adjust to the dim light and he sees what is happening.

Thor is reclining on the bed, and Fandral is between his legs and...

Loki's eyes go wide and his mouth drops. They don't seem to have noticed him. Turning on his heel he walks out of the tent, carefully letting the flap fall behind him.

He looks guiltily at the guards. "They're discussing official business," Loki says needlessly.

The guards nod at him.

Loki stands between them not moving. And then he scowls. Maybe Loki should kill Fandral for dishonoring his brother. Loki's fists clench. He doesn't really want to do that...and couldn't Thor have easily killed Fandral himself? Thor must...Thor must want it.

Loki puts a hand to his chin. Maybe Thor is just desperate and curious like Loki had been? Thor's never struck Loki as particularly curious in most matters, but maybe being around Sif has addled his mind...and other things...and made him terribly desperate...desperate enough to play the woman's role.

Loki puts a hand to his brow. He doesn't think he'll ever get that image out of his brain.

At just that moment Sif chooses to turn the corner of the tent. "Loki, where is Thor?"

Loki straightens and swallows. "I don't know."

Sif's eyes narrow. "Is he in the tent?"

"No," says Loki holding up both hands. "No, no, no." Thankfully the guards don't even look sideways.

Loki doesn't know who he's protecting exactly, Thor, Fandral, Sif, or himself. Maybe he is just afraid of being labelled brother of someone who is  _argr_?

Sif leans forward and presses her finger to Loki's naked chest. He sucks in a breath. Her finger is calloused, yes, but it is softer than Fandral's just the same. And she smells heavenly.

"You said you don't know where he is, but then you say he isn't in the tent. Which is it?"

Loki closes his eyes, afraid to keep them open, afraid he'll lean forward and do something terrible. Her lips are so close and he can imagine how soft they are. "I just came from the tent...he's not there." Opening his eyes he smiles and shrugs. "I was looking for him myself. Have you checked the canteen?"

Sif tilts her head. She doesn't look like she trusts him, but she says slowly. "It's true, battle does make him even more excessively hungry than usual."

Loki swallows. "Why don't you check there, and I'll check the baths."

Sif nods, gives him one last look, and sets off on her way, leaving the smell of soap and  _her_  in her wake.

Loki's jaw tenses and he runs his tongue over his teeth. He looks down at his breeches. He is right back to where he started.

Clenching his fists he heads off towards the baths. Maybe they'll be empty and he can take care of some official business on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoy my work, and you are interested in myth!Loki with a hat tip to the Avengers, hadrosaurs, and many a fine modern myth, you might like my story, "I Bring the Fire". You can read excerpts on [my blog](http://ibringthefireodin.tumblr.com/post/27868080954/fic-i-bring-the-fire-post-1).


	3. Sif

Sif paces in front of the wailing newborn in the bassinet. At just 6 weeks Sif and Thor's second child, Modi, is, according to even the nurses, 'a terror.' Feeling her gown cling to her, Sif looks down. Her breasts are leaking. She lets out a soft growl of frustration. She's heard in some cultures that mothers may hand off breast feeding to a 'wet nurse.' But among Asgardians that is considered a moral failure.

Pressing a hand to her weeping breast, she stares down at her screaming spawn. The nurses have taken Thurd, Thor and Sif's two year old daughter, outside. Sif's found other tasks to get the other servants out of the house.

She glares at Modi. She just put him down 15 minutes ago. He is supposed to be asleep, she is supposed to have some time to herself now. She is supposed to be in the training room, pulling out her glaive and swinging it until her arms ache, doing sit ups until she can't, pushing her body until her mind has left it behind.

Because what she really is supposed to do is be with Thor at the siege in the realm of the black dwarves. She wants to be with Fandral, and Hogun and Volstagg, and the troops. She misses them. Although they see her as an oddity, she has long since proven herself to them. Life in war is simpler. On the battlefield there is not the subtle shifting allegiances of the court. And that is why she sent the servants away. Sif doesn't fit the stereotype of the warm, loving but firm, constant guide of the future heir she is supposed to be, and each example of her failings causes whispers - word of her swinging her glaive around would certainly cause lips to fly.

She has been taken to task by her family more than once. Not that she wasn't taken to task by her family before. But now she can't run. Now she is reminded it isn't about her, it is about her children. And her half brother Heimdall reminds her his duty as gatekeeper is not something he can run from either.

Ears ringing, she looks at Modi, his face wrinkled up in a breathless shriek. She'd die for either of her children. Living for them is much harder.

Closing her eyes, she walks from the room, arms crossed over her chest. She is afraid of what she might do to him if she tries to pick him up.

From the foyer comes a voice. "Thor?" Of course, it is Loki, he is the only person who would let himself in.

Sif doesn't answer, just bows her head and bites her lip.

Loki doesn't have the decency to turn away under Modi's wailing onslaught. She hears footsteps, and then he is in the room with her.

"Sif?" he says. "Is everything alright?"

She doesn't look at him. "Thor has left for the realm of the black dwarves."

"He's left you already?" Loki says. He sounds shocked for some reason.

Sif hardens her jaw. Of course he left. He is attending to his duty, and she is attending to hers, and how dare she think she'd rather be fighting for her life than facing a screaming infant.

"Where are the servants?" Loki asks, walking past her towards the room where Modi is still shrieking.

"I sent them away." She finally meets his gaze. "Modi will not..." She almost says shut up, but she manages to say, "Be quiet."

Loki tilts his head towards the other room. "Do you mind if I?"

Sif shakes her head. "Do your worst."

She turns away. There is a few more minutes of screaming, and then Modi is suddenly quiet.

Sif breathes a sigh of relief, and then is immediately overcome by guilt.

She hurries into her baby's room.

Modi is wrapped tightly in a blanket, lying on his side on Loki's forearm. Loki is bouncing him gently and whispering in his ear. In Modi's mouth there is a red circular object with a little handle. His eyes are closed.

"Did you enchant him?" she hisses.

Loki looks up at her. He is not in his armor. Instead he wears a more casual black leather trousers and jacket over a green silk shirt. His hair is loose and natural; it isn't slicked back as it is when he attends affairs of state. Curls twist around his ears. Even without close inspection she knows the nails on his long fingers are neater than her own. There is no dust on his clothing, no stink of sweat. As always, he is as pretty as a girl. And just as skilled at duplicity and passive aggression, hence his conspicuous absence from the siege. Instead he attends to 'diplomatic matters'. He doesn't get closer to the front than Odin's war councils.

Loki smiles at her. "No, Sif. Just something I learned from Vord when Hugo, her last, was born." His face goes somber for a moment at the mention of Tyre's wife and her youngest son, now nearly 30.

Scowling, she approaches cautiously, afraid she will end the blessed silence. "That thing in his mouth?"

He looks down. "A soothie. Something the elves do. I was going to give it to you. Thor has bragged often about Modi's lungs."

Still gently bouncing Sif's baby, he shakes his head. "I can't believe Thor has left so soon."

Sif bites back a bitter laugh and feels the sting of tears in her eyes. She is 6 weeks past delivery. Just when the midwives say it is safe for her to 'be with' her husband again. She tells herself it is duty that pulled Thor away, but maybe it is just an excuse for him to run.

Sif has 'been with' her husband all of three times in two years and nine months. One time ended awkwardly. The two other times she's wound up with child.

Loki looks down at Modi. "You know, I never thought I'd like children. But I find that I do quite a bit. I suppose once you've had one of your -" He shakes his head.

Sif rolls her eyes. Loki makes a fool of himself around children frequently, and her children especially. He casts spells and makes illusions, the perfect clown. It is often gossipped about at court.

Turning, Loki gently puts Modi back into the bassinet. Sif holds her breath. But her son just takes three deep sucks on his soothie, and then is silent.

Loki turns around and smiles at her, waggling his eyebrows triumphantly. Some people at court call him "the princess." He is so argr - with his magic, his open disdain for warfare, his clowning with children, and now soothing her baby. These are things men just do not do.

He was born to every advantage in the realm...male...a prince, and he squanders it with his behavior. He hasn't taken a wife, and the troops don't hesitate to venture why. He probably is wife to some lord somewhere.

Sif looks at her sleeping child. And he's a better woman than she is. Suddenly her eyes go hot and her vision goes blurry. She turns quickly and walks to the door.

x x x x

Sif's shoulders are hunched over as she leaves the room. He puts a quick spell of silence around his nephew's chamber and follows her.

He hasn't had an opportunities to be with Sif often since her marriage to Thor. Or maybe he hasn't wanted to be with her. Not with the evidence of his brother's claim on her so prominent in her swelling belly. He thinks this must be the first time he's been alone with her since the wedding.

He's thought of her often, though. And he's missed her. Not just for her beauty. He's missed her pragmatic voice in the war councils he attends. She is not as physically quick or as strong as a man, as such she's had to develop her brain more and become better at honest assessment of risk. Sif was the most level headed of all the advisors when discussing strategies. Many times a swift sharp comment from her shattered a vain contest of egos. He always thought of her as an ally in those meetings, another voice of common sense.

He has wondered why she hasn't been allowed to attend anymore. Surely her brain did not disappear as her belly has grown. Maybe she has been ill? He remembers how difficult Vord's pregnancy with his son Hugo had been.

He tilts his head at memory of his old long ended affair with Tyre's wife. Guilt solves nothing.

He looks to Sif. She looks radiant. If she gained weight during her pregnancies it is hardly noticeable, save for the fullness of her breasts - and that is hardly a slight to her beauty.

He feels his mouth go wet and he swallows. He should not think this way. Sif loves Thor, everyone knows it, has known it, since the two started sparring together as children. And even if she didn't; she is Thor's. And Thor, no matter how he and Loki fight, is Loki's brother. Thor loves Loki and stands up for him in his own sometimes violent, overbearing way. Thor, and maybe Fandral, are among the two men in Asgard Loki can call friends. And the motivations for Fandral's friendship are suspect.

Sif shudders, back still to him. Loki straightens. She is wearing a long flowing gown of beige and gold that cinches just below her breasts, and then tumbles down to the floor in a curtain.

She makes a small gasp.

Sif is crying. Loki's eyes widen at the realization. He's seen her on the battlefield after defeat, after the death of comrades. Sif does not cry.

"Sif?" Loki says.

She starts to laugh hysterically. "You make a better mother than me, Loki. I cannot comfort my own child."

Tilting his head, Loki moves closer. He does know the sensation of not being able to soothe his own child. He remembers taking Hugo from Vord's arms one time and his son letting loose a heartbreaking cry as though he'd broken him with his touch. But then Vord had shown him how to soothe him. Has no one taught Sif?

"It just takes practice," Loki says, moving closer to her. He'd had time to practice with Hugo. But not enough. He never loved Vord, but he loved Hugo instantly. He remembers how his heart would break each time he left his child.

Tyre had been in the field during the time of Hugo's birth - a lucky thing. Vord had retired to a cabin far from the court to deliver and to recover afterwards. Loki was able to cast a spell of confusion over the attending midwives. They remember the birth as being two months later than it had been - conveniently timed to be 9 months after Tyre's last encounter with his wife.

"When he wakes, I will show you," Loki says, moving closer still.

Sif laughs, again, and this time it is choked by sobs. "I am no longer allowed to be a warrior, and I am a failure as a wife a woman and a mother!"

Suddenly Loki realizes he's slipping into deeper waters than frustration over a colicky child. He feels the desire to flee. And then Sif turns. Her eyes brighter blue with her tears, her hair hanging loose and down, framing her perfect, heart shaped face, long tendrils of it nearly reaching the tops of her full breasts.

Suddenly he can't run. Automatically, he makes a quick gesture and casts a spell so that if Heimdall looks his eyes will slide past.

"I'm sure that is not true," says Loki softly, remaining perfectly still. If he moves, he'll wipe away a tear. If he wipes a tear away he will catch her face in his hands. If he catches her face in his hand he'll kiss her.

Sif smiles, and it's hard and bitter. "Oh, it is true. I can't soothe my child, I don't behave how a woman should, and I don't want to - I am so bored here Loki! I feel as though everything I've worked for is crumbling to dust! And as a wife..." She laughs and turns her head. "My husband is repulsed by me."

Loki's jaw sags.

She turns her head to him, her teeth, small and white flash between her delicate lips. "Is it that I am too much a man!"

For a moment Loki is paralyzed. He always thought what he saw so long ago between Fandral and Thor was just a passing dalliance, youthful curiosity.

There is a small bleating noise from where Modi lies asleep. Both Loki and Sif look in his direction. Modi makes a few soft sobbing noises, and then he is quiet again.

Loki turns back to Sif. She is holding up her arms and looking down at her breasts. Through the loose folds of fabric is the stain of milk. "I am repugnant," she says, her face crumpling into a sneer.

Loki's brother, his golden manly brother, has broken one of the most perfect women in Asgard. Loki understands why Thor has done it. He is still furious.

With two long strides he is at her side. "Never Sif. Not now, not ever."

Loki's hand is under Sif's chin, and she is suddenly inundated with the smell of pine trees and snow. Male scents that defy his effeminate appearance.

She laughs at him. "I'm leaking."

His narrow jaw goes hard. Her gown has thick straps that release with a tug for her baby's convenience. With a quick yank, Loki's disengages the strap. His hand cups her breast.

"So?" he whispers. It's less a question than a challenge. She feels warmth pool between her thighs, despite herself.

Sif should punch him, she should fight. But she's just so tired. She is disgusting. Not just her weeping breasts that are sore from the constant kneading and tugging of her baby's mouth, but the soft skin beneath her belly that hasn't retreated completely yet, the extra weight she carries in her thighs. And knowing Loki this is probably just some game to him. Maybe he expects her to hit him, and then he'll laugh at her for daring to imagine that he was attracted to her ever, and especially now.

A physical confrontation she could handle right now but she doesn't have the energy for an emotional one. "Don't be cruel, Loki," she says.

The look on his face looks genuinely pained, and she wonders how long he'll play this game. But then he falls to his knees and his mouth goes to her breast and he begins to suck. Softly, not like an infant - still it hurts, because her nipples are so sore. But then his mouth goes cold and she gasps. She nearly falls over. The sensation on her sore breasts is divine. Her body floods with warmth. His hands grab her hips to steady her, and the world goes dark. She wraps her arms around his head, and pulls him closer. She's barely aware he's released her other strap until his mouth is on her other side.

It is only when he pulls away and looks up at her that reason comes back to her. She looks down at him kneeling before her. "My brother sees us," she says with a gasp.

Smiling gently at her, he shakes his head. "No, Sif. I've enchanted us, your brother's eyes will slip right by."

She knows he can do this. But she swallows. There is something in the softness of his eyes as his hand caresses her side that is almost frightening.

Her gown is hanging on her hips. Green eyes still on hers Loki slides it down until it pools on the floor. He kisses the valley between her breasts. "There is no part of you I find repugnant."

His lips drift lower. She knows what he intends. She's had other lovers before Thor - but what Loki intends is not something Thor enjoys. He 'doesn't like the taste'.

As Loki's lips dip to her navel, her eyes go to the room where Modi sleeps. Thor's undoubtedly got a woman somewhere, that is why he ignores and avoids her. Sif has done her duty to the throne and to Thor, and she will remain married until her children are adults. But she will no longer be little more than a brood mare and a cow.

She looks down to Loki, his tongue flicks against her navel, a questioning look in his eyes. Sif hooks a leg over his shoulder and he grins. It is the most beautiful sight Sif has seen in a long time.

x x x x

Later, Sif and Loki lie naked, legs intertwined on a divan. Sif is dozing. Occasionally she opens her eyes to see Loki smiling at her as he runs his fingers through her hair.

"I've dreamed of this moment for so long," he whispers kissing her forehead.

Sif has never thought of this moment, though she is happy enough to be here. She doesn't know how to respond to that comment, other than to smile benignly.

She should have known to be afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also write original fiction. My latest, "I Bring the Fire" is a bit "American Gods" meets "Another Fine Myth" (and a first novel, for all the energy and weirdness that entails). It stars Myth!Loki. [Read an excerpt here.](http://ibringthefireodin.tumblr.com/post/27868080954/fic-i-bring-the-fire-post-1)


	4. Thor (sort of)

The banquet hall roars with Thor's laughter. He is seated at a long table between Sif and Fandral. They are surrounded by Hogun and Volstagg and the Einherjar, Odin's elite guard. Fandral scans the crowd for Loki but doesn't see him. He is still with the Alfheim delegation, undoubtedly smoothing out the latest diplomatic 'incident.'

A prince of Alfheim had declared that he would gladly take the beautiful crown-prince Thor as his consort. If Loki and Odin hadn't used their combined powers, the Alfheim prince would have been ground to mincemeat by Thor's fists.

Putting down his cup of mead, Fandral looks to his side. Sif doesn't seem to mind Loki's absence. She is sitting on one of Thor's tree trunk like thighs. She is drunk, and so is Thor.

Fandral sometimes wonders if he is the only one who recognizes Loki's increased attentiveness to his niece and nephew for what it is. He knows that Sif and Loki are lovers. Just as Loki must surely know Fandral is sometimes Thor's somewhat reluctant partner. It is hard for Fandral to say no to the crown prince. Thor is already anxious about his 'weakness.' If Fandral pulls away, his anxiety could turn to fear. Thor's fear can be dangerous, as the Alfheim prince has discovered.

Fandral understands Thor's feelings. Weeks ago, one of Thor's own worshippers on Midgard, a Scandinavian king, burned his son alive for preferring the company of men the way Thor does. An  _argr_ wouldn't be burned alive in Asgard, but there were those who whispered they should be.

"Where is Loki?" Volstagg booms suddenly, slamming his fist on the table. Fandral's mead tips and spills over.

"Still with the elves!" someone calls.

There are whistles, boos, and angry shouts, all around the table.

Thor pulls Sif tighter to him. His face is red with drink. "Easy, friends! As my father says, do not be angry at the elf!"

There are boos and shouts around the table.

"Twas just a misunderstanding," says Thor, raising a goblet.

Fandral tilts his head. Odin had said that. In Alfheim such moral deviancy is condoned.

Thor grins. "He mistook me for my brother!" With that he tilts back his goblet and the crowd roars with laughter. Even Sif laughs, albeit nervously.

Rising to his feet, Fandral turns to Thor and lifts a finger at the crown prince. "You go too far!" The world is swaying as he does. But it just isn't right. Loki isn't argr, and Thor is, but he isn't; he is the bravest, strongest, surest ally in battle that Fandral's ever known. And Loki, well as tricky as people say he is, he hasn't revealed what Thor is and...and..Fandral just can't take the incongruity of it all. Also, he's probably very drunk.

The hall goes quiet. At first Fandral thinks it is at his word, but he turns his head. Standing at the end of the table is Loki.

His eyes briefly meet Fandral's, but then they flick to Thor and then to Sif. "Relax, Fandral," Loki says with a smile that would not have been out of place on a hungry  _wyrm_. "My brother is only jesting."

Thor laughs low, his eyes on Fandral. Nervous laughter rises all around, Sif's feminine notes more audible among the deeper voices.

Loki flounces down on a chair, puts his feet up on the table, and flicks a wrist. "I just don't know how that elf managed to overlook my obvious charms."

There is absolute silence as Loki lifts a hand and makes a show of inspecting a nail. And then Thor lets out a loud bellow and the crowd goes wild.

Fandral's eyes go to Sif. Her eyes flit to Loki, and then Thor puts a possessive hand around her waist and she smiles warm and genuinely at her husband.

Across the room Loki's face goes livid.

x x x x

"You do nothing to discourage the way they talk about you!" Sif shouts. "Could you just pretend to be a man!"

It's the first time Sif and Loki are alone together since the incident with the elf. Thor is talking to Father. Loki's niece and nephew are with their grandmother and her ladies. Loki is in Sif's very opulent bed chamber. He remembers her laughing on Thor's knee, and his fist clenches at his side. He wants to be smooth, but finds himself shouting just the same. "And maybe if you acted like a woman occasionally you might find you like it. Maybe you'd put down your glaive in favor of embroidery!"

Sif straightens and closes her eyes. The square set of her shoulders softens. Loki begins to feel sorry.

Stepping towards her, he puts a hand on her shoulders. "Come, now, we need each other, Sif." She looks up at him, those steely blue eyes framed by black locks. He puts his hand beneath her chin. "There is only you for me and only me for you."

Sif turns her head. "I know of your affairs with Vord, Skadi, and Freyja, Loki. Don't say such things."

"Over long ago," Loki says too quickly. Since there has been her, there has been only her.

She rolls her eyes. "And it is just as well. I have a husband."

 _Who won't have you_. The words are on the tip of Loki's tongue, but he doesn't say them. He loves her, but she still loves Thor more. He has told himself over and over again it doesn't matter.

"You know, Sif," he says cautiously. "Elves aren't known to make mistakes...about these things."

 

Her head turns to him as quick as an adder's. "What are you saying, Loki?"

He throws his hands in the air in supplication. "Just that -"

She scowls. "How dare you, of all people, accuse Thor of being  _argr_."

He of all people. He smiles. But inside he hardens. He runs his hand gently through her hair and pulls it just a little too hard. She hisses, but he kisses her quickly. She bites his lip and pushes him back to the bed. He lets himself fall backwards, lets her climb astride him.

"You like me being  _argr_  for you," he whispers, grabbing her hip. She narrows her eyes but doesn't argue.

When they are done, as she usually does, she begins to doze. He quickly whispers the words of a spell to deepen her sleep. As her breathing deepens, Loki flicks his wrist and pulls out a pair of shears he's hidden in the void between the branches of the World Tree. He hesitates only a moment, and then he snips off all her hair, the traditional punishment for an adulteress.

As the locks fall into his hands he smirks. The prank reveals Thor's inattentiveness to his wife, and Sif's infidelity; and it makes Loki the masculine one.

It's perfect, really.

x x x x

The Midgardian Japanese spring is not hot, but it is humid. Fandral's skin is sticky as he sits by the Bifrost site in front of the tent and waits for Thor's return. The early evening air is filled with the sound of frogs and insects.

It's ten years since Loki's prank against Sif and Thor. He was made to pay dearly for it. Sif got her hair back, fashioned by dwarves of ravens' feathers and the fabric between the stars, guaranteed to be beautiful in battle and in ballrooms. Thor got the magic hammer Mjolnir. Odin, for his leniency in judging a crime against the crown, got a rather nice ring, the staff Gungnir, and a boat that could folded up into the space of a pocket.

Loki got his lips sewn shut by a dwarf.

Loki disappeared not long afterwards his scars healed. He's been missing for eight years.

Sif had one more child, a son named Ullr. There are rumors he isn't Thor's. Whoever the father is, he must be powerful, because Sif was allowed back on the war council - despite the fact she and Thor divorced, rather amicably all things considered.

It's good to have Sif back on the council. A war with Nornheim looms. The Queen has declared that without Loki Asgard will lose, and she's shown Thor and Fandral where to find him - and only Thor and Fandral. Because Loki, well, Fandral's not sure of all the specifics, but Loki has taken the form of a woman these past few years and Frigga doesn't want Odin to know.

A motion on the horizon catches his eye. Over a ridge an eight legged horse with two riders comes into view. A Japanese woman in a dark blue robe decorated with flowers sits on Sliepner's withers. She clutches a small cloth bag. Strapped to her back is a traditional Japanese sword, a  _katana,_  he thinks they're called. Thor is astride behind her.

Fandral tilts his head. As they approach, they dismount and the woman bows her head. "I am not quite ready to leave."

"Suit yourself," says Thor gruffly, moving into the tent, away from the mosquitos.

The woman looks hard at Fandral. She is really lovely. Pale skin under straight black hair, full lips on a small mouth, delicate nose, narrow chin and almond eyes. He blinks. Her eyes are emerald green.

"Loki," says Fandral.

She-he doesn't respond. Fandral scratches his head. She opens the bag she's carrying, takes out an earthen bowl small as a teacup and pours water in it. She stares into the reflection, and magic lights her face. Fandral doesn't know much sorcery, but he knows that Loki is using the water to watch something.

She stares into the bowl late into the night, silent as a stone. Bored, Fandral pours himself a cup of mead. Then another. And another. Loki gets prettier and prettier. He wonders if it is the magic, or just the mead.

Finally, near midnight Loki pours the water onto the ground. Lifting her head she looks off to the horizon.

She looks so sad. Fandral knows how he likes to fight a blue mood - and by the sound of Thor's snoring in the tent Fandral knows they won't be interrupted. He clears his throat. "You know, if you're feeling lonely and want to -"

She turns her head. The look of despair on her face - for a moment Fandral is afraid she might cry. And then magic whips around her and she stands in a green blur. As the magic fades where once was a woman with tears in her eyes is Loki in his Asgardian form, the woman's robes torn open, the katana out and pointed at Fandral's throat.

Sneering he says, "This sword can slice you in half like butter!"

Fandral, stares at the tip of the sword, follows the point to the hilt, the hilt to Loki's arm and the arm to Loki's bare chest. He takes a sip of mead and sighs. "You know, that isn't the way to turn me off."

With that Fandral is suddenly overcome by a huge, irrepressible belch.

Loki growls. "If you were any one else..." And he turns away.

Decades later Fandral learns that during his time on Earth Loki was married to a human man, and bore him five children. He - she had just left her family when Fandral had made his well-intentioned proposal. Fandral isn't a particularly deep person, but even he realizes the gravity of his blunder. Also, he is quite frankly surprised he's still alive.

He apologizes to Loki. Sincerely.

Loki forgives him.

Sadly, forgiveness doesn't involve sex with Loki in male or female form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also write original fiction. My latest, "I Bring the Fire" is a bit "American Gods" meets "Another Fine Myth" (and a first novel, for all the energy and weirdness that entails). It stars Myth!Loki. [Read an excerpt here.](http://ibringthefireodin.tumblr.com/post/27868080954/fic-i-bring-the-fire-post-1)  
> .


	5. Tony Stark

Tony leans against the wall in the hallway that runs adjacent to the elevator banks. Down the hall, in front of the elevator is Loki, Fandral and the assistant girl with the tits, Marcy, Tony thinks her name is. Loki is hovering over her like a god-damned fairy godmother.

Huh. God-damned fairy...that pretty much sums up Loki, poor guy, born in a homophobic realm like Asgard and going crazy because of it...Okay, maybe he went crazy because the Cask of Ancient winters reacted with - in Thor's words 'Loki's unique physiology' - whatever that meant, and because he was tortured by Thanos...still, being gay in Asgard couldn't have helped. Tony looks at the glass of whiskey in his hand. He sighs happily. He can help Loki deal with his internalized homophobia; and it feels so good to be the good guy. Smiling, he takes a sip of his drink and looks back to the trio.

Marcy is dressed to the nines this evening. Her dress is just on the red side of pink and fits her form like a glove. It's obviously way beyond her pay grade and Tony can guess who bought it for her. Marcy, or maybe Loki, has accessorized the dress with a narrow black belt, shiny black Mary-Jane heels, and a matching purse. Her hair is done up in a sexy retro style - her nearly black bangs curl over her forehead in a lush wave, and the rest is pulled back in a neat bun at the nape of her neck.

Tony turns his gaze back to Loki. As stunning as Marcy is, he and Pepper are just not quite in  _that_  mood. And Loki looks delicious in a slate gray suit with a green shirt open at the collar, his medium length black hair curling around his ears.

Fandral reaches a hand towards Marcy. "You have a bit of lint on your shoulder, I'll just -"

 _Swack!_ Tony jumps as Loki's hand connects with Fandral's.

Loki hisses at the other man. "You will not touch her!"

Fandral holds up his hands in mock surrender.

"Yo, Obaasaan, take it easy," says Marcy.

Tony blinks. Obaasaan? Some weird slang slur from some foreign video game he doesn't know?

"Don't call him that here!" says Fandral. "Thor might hear."

Marcy smirks, and Loki winks at her. "That's the point," says Loki running his hands over Marcy's shoulders as though the dress needs smoothing. Chastely kissing her forehead, he says, "You look beautiful."

The elevator dings and they step in and out of Tony's line of view. But he hears Loki saying, "Unlike Fandral, Captain Steve Rogers is an honorable man..."

The elevator closes and Tony steps into the space they just occupied, watching the little lights flash up to the top floor. There is a team building party in the penthouse tonight, and of course Steve will be there.

Tony shakes his head,  _almost_ feeling sorry for Loki. He's been hanging on Steve for over a month now. Steve is as straight as they come, and Loki's infatuation is just...sad. Especially now that he's on Earth and there are so many other, better, more charming, and experienced options available.

Smiling, Tony straightens. He'll just have to fix this.

x x x x

Pepper says that Tony only thinks of himself. This isn't true. At the party he postpones what he wants to do for hours. Well an hour. Or maybe 45 minutes. But the point is, before he slides onto a barstool next to Loki he has graced all the other attendees of the party with his, wit, wisdom and elegance - and gotten Barton, Natasha and Fury to tell him to 'fuck off'. Also, as Thor's fingers twitched on Mjolnir some storm clouds appeared even though the forecast hadn't called for rain.

So. He looks Loki up and down - all in all he's earned himself - and Pepper! A drink of something tall cool and dressed in green. She's working late tonight, and Tony's going to have a present for him-her! Ready and waiting when she gets home.

Sadly, Loki doesn't acknowledge Tony's admiring gaze. His eyes are fixed on Steve and Marcy. They are standing next to the window across the room, smiling and cooing at one another, obviously off in their own little world.

"Pathetic," says Tony.

Loki blinks. "What do you want, Stark?"

"I see what's going on here," says Tony.

Loki looks at his half empty Manhattan. "I am drinking?"

"No, you're mooning over the Love Bird over there."

Straightening, Loki looks embarrassed. "I am not mooning over Darcy."

"Yeah, I know," says Tony waving his hand for a drink.

"That would be wrong...we share mitochondria," says Loki. "Wait, you know? Who told you?"

Tony takes the whiskey on the rocks from the bartender and nods. "No one told me, I guessed."

Loki blinks. "Really? I know the Snow Wife is a well-known Japanese fairy tale, but no mortal had yet made the connection...and Darcy's one-sixteenth Japanese heritage isn't very apparent, except in her short stature."

Ignoring that, because it's obviously gibberish, Tony says, "You have a crush on Steve."

Loki scowls and his nostrils flare. But Tony is a generous, understanding man, no matter what Pepper says.

"Hey, it's alright here. We're more tolerant of that sort of thing. And though your sort of reverse game of Cyrano de Bergerac is kind of touching...it's also really lame." He tilts his head and waves his drink. "Let it go, Loki."

"Cyrano de Bergerac?" says Loki.

"Oh come, on," says Tony. "Everyone's noticed how Marcy's wardrobe has been improving over the last month or so. You've been buying her clothes, playing the good friend, spoiling her -"

Loki's jaw goes hard. "Her name is  _Darcy_. And it is my  _right_  to spoil her."

"Darcy, Marcy, whatever." He prepares to take a sip of his drink but his whiskey abruptly catches on fire. Tony blinks.

"It's Darcy," says Loki in a low voice. "She is deserving of respect."

Tony doubts that, but he pushes the green flaming drink aside and says, "See, and that's what I mean. Really touching. You love Steve, but can't have him, so you find him a nice girl - a sweet, innocent, girl with magnificent breasts, 'cause you know him enough to know he likes big tits, and you hook him up." He shakes his head. "Really, really, touching."

Loki is staring at him, mouth agape. He looks like he's in shock.

Tony pats his shoulder. "Come on, we all know the myths, how you came to Earth and lived as wife to a mortal man for eight years."

Loki's lips purse.

"Euphemisms!" says Tony. "For what you really are."

Picking Tony's hand off his shoulder, Loki smirks. "And what am I, Mr. Stark?"

Tony leans in closer, savoring the smell of Loki as he does, peppermint and soap and male - just what he and Pepper are in the mood for. "You like men, Loki, and that's okay. In particular, you like Steve Rogers though, and  _that_  isn't okay."

Loki is staring at him coolly. "Has anyone ever told you that you are miserable at reading people?"

"Yeah, Pepper all the time. But I got this one right, didn't I?" He cocks an eyebrow.

"No," says Loki.

Tony blinks. "But you've been all over Steve -"

"Vetting him!" says Loki snippishly.

"Why?" Says Tony. He looks over to Marcy-Darcy and Steve and back to Loki. Wait...shared mitochondria? Snow-wife...he actually knows that fairy tale, Pepper made him watched every film that had won an Oscar in the foreign category, and he remembers that from a Japanese winner, Kwaidan or something. Snow demon...lived with a mortal man, had his babies...and mitochondria travel down maternal lines...

His mouth sags. "Is she your..."

Loki sighs. "Great-great-great-great...oh I lose count. But my grand-daughter, yes. A direct maternal descendent."

Tony blinks, his science brain kicking in. "You know, I wouldn't think that gene swapping after so many generations would be an issue."

Loki winces. "As I said, we share mitochondria..."

"But since they are only inherited maternally, I don't think that would matter, and they'd only get them from her even if your swimmers share the same little energy makers," he says still in Mr. Science mode and tilting his head at Darcy.

Loki swallows the rest of his Manhattan in a single gulp and stares at the girl. "Maybe there can be only one." Eyes widening, he shakes his head. "Too risky."

Tony's about to say something, but then he remembers Thor has mentioned Loki having a children in Asgard who were, in Thor's less than PC words, "Deformed".

Closing his mouth, he holds up a hand for another drink. He should get a medal for sensitivity. Sulking, because no one knows how sensitive he is, Tony says, "Well, this kills, my plans for the evening."

Loki straightens beside him. "Wait a minute...were you?"

Tony shrugs. "Yeah. You know, every now and then Pepper and I like to add a little spice to our relationship."

Licking his lips, Loki straightens a little more. "Pepper?"

Tony shrugs again. "She is kinkier than she looks." And then he smiles at the thought of Pepper kinkiness.

Loki looks Tony up and down. "Would I have to see you naked?"

Tony's eyes bug in a way that is completely undignified. Is this salvageable? "Well..."

 

Loki taps his chin. "...Because that would never work, I saw you naked after that mission with the slime monster and that was enough."

Tony bristles. "Love me, love my arc reactor."

Loki snorts. "I don't mind your arc reactor, it's your..." He shudders. "Body hair."

Tony scowls. "Pepper and I, we're a team, and a couple. Love one, love us both."

Loki winces. "I just have no interest in men unless I am a woman."

Two neurons in Tony's brain fire exceptionally brightly. "Well, you know, if you wanted to be a woman..." He looks Loki up and down. He wasn't quite in the mood for girl-on-Pepper-on-Tony action tonight, but hey, who is he kidding? He can always make himself in the mood for that.

Loki tilts his head and narrows his eyes. "But then I don't think I would fully appreciate the loveliness that is Lady Pepper...also the risk of pregnancy..." He frowns, and then he smiles devilishly. "On the other hand, if you wanted to be the other woman..."

Tony's jaw sags, and his body goes hot.

Loki snorts and his voice turns bitter. "Not so open minded as you thought you were, were you?"

 

Quickly, regaining his ability to speak, Tony says. "Are you kidding, I love the idea!"

Loki's eyes widen, and his pupils dilate. He stares at Tony for a moment.

Tony stares right back, all sorts of delicious,  _once_ impossible thoughts running through his brain. And then swallows. Wiping his mouth he says, "Excuse me I think I just drooled a little bit."

"Oh," Loki says softly. His eyes widen. "Oh you  _would_. That would be..." He exhales. Smirking, he adjusts his legs on the bar stool. "Oh, yes..." It comes out a purr.

Those are Tony's thoughts exactly. Inclining his head towards the door he wags his eyebrows. "Let's...go somewhere where you can slip me into something more comfortable?"

"Indeed," says Loki raising his own eyebrows.

They step off their stools and turn towards the door just in time to see Steve getting aboard an elevator with Darcy. The doors close in front of the happy couple and Loki stops, his body going rigid. "It's not even eleven o'clock," he whispers.

"Maybe _they're_  going to change into something a little more comfortable," says Tony with a grin and a shrug.

The air in front of them seems to shimmer.

Lips curling up in a snarl, Loki says, "I thank you for your offer, but I must go." Green mist rises around him and he is gone.

Tony blinks, in disbelief. Was Christmas just cancelled? Well, damn. He sighs and realizes he hasn't felt this bereft since he found out there was no Easter bunny. He takes a deep breath. The show must go on. He looks over to Fandral who is eyeing him curiously.

And then suddenly green mist swirls in the room and Loki is there again. Well half there...he is cut off at the waist and kind of transparent. "Stark, as a reward for your generous offer..." He waves his hand and mist engulfs Tony. He swears he feels himself shrinking but it may only be because he can't see anything and has no frame of reference.

The mist subsides. There is no Loki, and the room is quiet. Something feels...off...not in a bad way...just different. And everyone is staring at him as though he's suddenly appeared naked...

Tony looks down at his body. He is in clothes, but they're now ill fitting and too big - except at the chest and hips...He purses his lips and reaches up to his chest area.

"Tony are you a woman?" says Clint from across the room.

Tony's fingers enclose around soft flesh of his new breasts and he sighs - so sensitive. He closes his eyes as heat shoots to his core. "Awesome." Opening his eyes, he says brightly, "See ya later, guys!"

Pepper's gonna love this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also write original fiction. My latest, "I Bring the Fire" is a bit "American Gods" meets "Another Fine Myth" (and a first novel, for all the energy and weirdness that entails). It stars Myth!Loki. [Read an excerpt here.](http://ibringthefireodin.tumblr.com/post/27868080954/fic-i-bring-the-fire-post-1)


	6. Jane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta Notes for looking at this chapter. Notes is an award winning published author, and has written a number of stories for Star Trek 2009. [Please give her work a look!](http://www.fanfiction.net/u/1997205/NotesfromaClassroom)

Scowling down at the notepad in her hand, Jane strides through her lab in Stark Tower. "Darcy! Darcy! I can't read this! Where are you?"

There is no answer. Jane narrows her eyes at the squiggles on the page. Just because Jane wrote said squiggles doesn't mean she can decipher them. Darcy can - Jane swears it is a super power. Dropping the notepad, Jane looks around in frustration. "Darcy!" It is at just that moment she notices the clock. It says 6:43. That can't be right.

Jane looks out the window at the darkening autumn sky. Okay, maybe it is right. Did Darcy even say goodbye? She vaguely remembers a goodbye, but she was sure that was yesterday...

"Ahem," comes a voice from behind.

Jane turns around. Standing in the doorway of her lab is her ex-gay-boyfriend's, previously mind-controlled, adopted little brother - and Darcy's distant long-time-ago grandmother. He's more casually dressed than she's ever seen him. He's wearing a muted green t-shirt, jeans and a sport coat. Thankfully, Darcy convinced him to drop the "straight-boy-trying-too-hard" slicked back long haired look. His hair is short and soft, curling in black ringlets around his ears.

Jane puts her hands on her hips. "Darcy's not here," she says, sounding as peeved as she is.

"I'm not actually here to see Darcy," says Loki.

Jane blinks. "What?"

Clearing his throat, Loki says, "My brother mentioned that there was an event that the two of you were going to attend together this evening, before your relationship ended. He is unable to attend the event due to a mis-scheduled appointment -"

Jane rolls her eyes. "Get to the point!" She has a feeling she knows what kind of 'appointment' it is...and with whom.

Narrowing his eyes at her, Loki says, "And since Thor is unable to attend the event as your friend or as your, your -"

"B-O-Y-F-R-I-E-N-D," Jane supplies.

"-he asked me to come in his stead since he is forever grateful for your understanding and wishes to assure that you are well."

Jane stares at Loki. And then what he said clicks. "Wait, Thor uses me as his free, unpaid therapist to get over the stupid hang ups about his homosexuality that he developed in the Realm Eternal that is supposed to be so much more highly evolved than ours. He thinks he's blowing me off for an event - probably because he never checks his email, I cancelled weeks ago - so he sends his brother as my consolation prize! Well, I never wanted to go to the Ultimate Fighting Tournament anyway!"

Loki's nostrils flare as he stares down at the tiny mortal woman. She barely comes to his chest; she is wearing an oversized flannel shirt that completely disguises any womanly features she might have. Did Thor think that by dating a female that looks like a pretty boy that he could get over his natural inclinations? Loki snorts. "Well, I didn't want to go either! I was only here to do  _HIM_  a favor!"

"Fine!" the little mortal yells.

"Fine!" says Loki. He spins on his heel, but thinking better of it, teleports before he sets the place on fire. How does his granddaughter put up with that horrible creature?

Jane watches the green smoke dissipate with a huff. Of all the stupid, condescending ideas Thor has ever had...

And then she blinks. There was a reason - well, one among many, she cancelled on the Ultimate Fighting Tournament...and she's late!

x x x x

The projection of galaxies on the ceiling of the Hayden Planetarium Space Theater dim and there is a collective sigh from the audience, and then clapping.

As the lights come on, a cheery man in his sixties approaches the podium at the front. On his arm is a spry elderly woman Jane has never met but has admired for decades. Before her name is announced, Jane leaps from her seat and starts clapping loudly. Around her, people in the audience do the same.

The applause doesn't stop until the man taps the microphone. "Beside me is a woman who evidently doesn't need much introduction." The crowd laughs, and the man holds up a plaque and shows it to the crowd. "For letting us know how much we really don't know about the universe, the Hayden Planetarium would like to present this lifetime achievement award to Vera Rubin, for her discovery of the galaxy rotation problem."

The crowd goes wild again and Jane grins. Crazy scientists.

There is a meet and greet afterwards and Jane gets to meet and shake hands with her idol. Sadly, Ms. Rubin is whisked away before Jane can ask her too many questions. Still, as Jane meanders through the crowd with her champagne glass, she is pretty happy. She feels refreshed and rejuvenated. Who cares if she is alone? Who cares if she is getting odd stares from a lot of the attendees because she is still considered a whacko in her field? She got to meet Vera Rubin! She turns to follow Ms. Rubin's path with her eyes...and drops her glass.

Across the room, shaking Rubin's hand is Loki. He followed her here! Why that condescending, stuck up...

Her brain fizzles out in her anger.

As soon as Vera and her small entourage steps away from him, Jane strides across the room. His back is to her - as though he hasn't seen her, as though he hasn't been following her. Jane jabs him with a finger.

Spinning around, Loki hisses, "Excuse me." His eyes widen slightly when he sees her, and then they narrow.

Jane will not be cowed. "You followed me here! Really? Does Thor, that big oaf, think so little of me that he expects me to fall to a million pieces just because he left me for a man?"

"I did not follow you here," Loki snaps.

"Oh, really, you just came here just to see Vera Rubin's life time achievement award?"

Glaring at her, Loki hisses. "Actually, yes, I did. I  _admire her_ contributions to your people's understanding of magic."

Jane raises a finger, about to snap something back at him. And then she blinks. "You do?" What had Darcy said?  _You and Loki should hang out sometime. You're both cranky and crazy about science._ "You do, don't you," she says again, as though to herself.

Loki looks at the mortal in front of him, prepared to say something sharp. But then he catches her tone.

Tilting his head he says, carefully, "Yes."

Jane takes a deep breath. "I am so sorry. I..." She closes her eyes and waves a hand in the air. "Let me make it up to you. Let me treat you to coffee."

Loki's jaw twitches as she opens her eyes. "I prefer hot chocolate." Coffee is horrid and bitter, no matter what Thor says.

She nods. "Well, I know a place that does a decent job at both."

He looks her up and down. For the event this evening, Dr. Foster has dressed in clothes that are actually flattering. She's too petite to be his ideal - her breasts are too small, and even in heels she doesn't come up to his Adams apple, but she is definitely not a boy. She has a nice figure, a pretty face, and a neck that is long and elegant.

He looks around at the thinning crowd, and back to Jane. He could do worse.

Even if she is only asking him out as an apology.

x x x x

"You mean, you haven't been home since..." Jane's voice drifts off, and she wraps her hands more tightly around her steaming mug. She can't bring herself to say Thanos' name.

Sitting with his leg spread wide, Loki is leaning back in his chair. Though not as bulky as Thor, he is very tall - she doubts his knees would fit comfortably under the table. The t-shirt he is wearing accentuates long flat planes of stomach. Even if he isn't as broad as his adoptive brother, he is still very muscular. And just as handsome really, in a different way.

He smiles a little grimly. "No, the Casket of Ancient Winters...it reacts with my  _unique_  physiology, in ways that are unhealthy."

Jane purses her lips. She thinks she remembers Thor saying something about the Casket 'resonating' with Loki in a way that drove him half mad. She decides not to push it.

Leaning forward, Loki takes a sip of his second hot chocolate. Licking the whipped cream off his lips in a way that makes Jane almost lick her own lips, he says, "And what of you, Dr. Foster? Since the creation of your Einstein Rosen bridge, what have you been up to?"

Jane blinks. She didn't so much create a bridge as design the 'top secret' interstellar craft that can vault through space time. It's a pain in the ass actually getting to the craft in outer space though. "I've been working with Kurt Wagner," she says. "Maybe you've heard of him. He's part of the X-men team; he can teleport. We're trying to figure out how so we can teleport into space."

Loki's eyes narrow. "The blue one."

Jane flushes a little and she grins. "Yeah, he's charming." Kurt's flirtatiousness has been a blessing. Just what she needs to remember she's still attractive, that there are still opportunities out there. Sighing, she puts down her cup and shakes her head. "But...

"But he's blue," says Loki with some finality.

Jane's brow furrows. Stupid Asgardians and their stupid prejudices. "I don't mind that. The blue is," she looks up in the air and bites her lip. "The blue is hot...it's just I doubt very much that he'd know what the galaxy rotation problem is."

She meets Loki's gaze. He is staring with the most incomprehensible look on his face. Wait, she just complimented his brain, didn't she? Does he think she's interested in him? She blinks. Does she mind if he does?

"I can teleport," he says.

Jane swallows. Oh, yes, she knows. "Thor told us we were not to approach you on the matter - that under no circumstances would you like to be SHIELD's guinea pig."

"I might consent to being  _your_ guinea pig," Loki says. The words pop out of his mouth before he's really had a chance to think about them.

Jane's face flushes red.

"I mean," Loki says quickly, "I know how to teleport with  _magic_ , but I don't know how it works...if that makes sense. I would like very much to know the human mathematical formulae that can explain it."

That is what he meant, isn't it?

For a moment he thinks Jane looks disappointed, but then she brightens. "That would be wonderful, and I'm sure you would be more helpful than Kurt. I mean between you and me we'd probably actually understand the science of it faster." She laughs. "Although, it's kind of disappointing that you're not blue."

Loki swallows and his stomach does an uncomfortable flip-flop.

x x x x

He should not be walking Jane home. Oh, his mother would approve, but he shouldn't become emotionally invested in Thor's leavings once  _again_. And yet here he is, hands in his pockets, walking through the streets of Manhattan, bending lower to hear Jane speak about her research, and about being an outcast in the scientific community - and that should definitely not affect him as much as it does.

They're walking along the sidewalk on the Western Edge of the Park. A low wall is to their left. Traffic to their right. There is a pause in their conversation, and then Jane says, "You know, I'm surprised Thor sent you to take me to the Ultimate Fighting Tournament tonight."

Loki purses his lips. "You shouldn't be surprised. He really doesn't understand how anyone could not be as excited about it as he is."

Jane tilts her head. "It's just - I would have expected him to want him to use my ticket to take his current boyfriend instead. I mean, Fury would totally be into that sort of thing."

Loki stops short and Jane stops beside him.

"Thor is dating Fury?" says Loki, his mouth dropping. Fury. The one eyed director of SHIELD?

Jane blinks up at him. "Yes, you didn't know?"

"No," says Loki staring down at her with wide eyes. And then he smirks. "And they say I am the one with the daddy issues."

Jane puts a delicate hand to her mouth, and then bursts out laughing. Loki does, too.

When they've both recovered, Jane wipes her eyes and puts her hands into the pockets of her coat. "I'm sorry," she says.

Loki tilts his head down at her, a ghost of a smile still on his face. She is so tiny. There is a loose strand of hair he wants to tuck behind her ear.

As he resists that impulse, Jane shrugs. "I'm sorry I called you a consolation prize. You're too funny and too smart and too handsome to ever just be a consolation prize. You deserve better."

The smile on Loki's face vanishes, and Jane ducks her head. She may be a genius astrophysicist, but when it comes to feelings, she is a bull in a China shop.

"Jane," says Loki.

Jane looks up at him. She's about to apologize for being an idiot  _again_ , but stops short when he reaches out and tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. When did he get so close? She looks at his lips. When did they get so close? Her eyes meet his. His gaze is heavy and serious. The earth seems a little wobbly beneath her, like gravity is on the fritz.

He's going to kiss her. Well, he wants to kiss her, but he won't unless she takes the initiative because he's Asgardian and they don't do things like that in public. Should she move to her tip toes? No. No. She is not going down that road again. She shoves her hands deeper into her pockets to restrain herself.

She finds herself licking her lips. He does look so kissable...but the last time she took the initiative with an Asgardian things didn't go very well and...

Loki's lips are very suddenly on hers and Jane's train of thoughts comes to a sudden, screeching, stop. As does the rest of her.

Jane's lips do not move beneath Loki's, and her whole body goes rigid. He misjudged - or maybe her words were not in earnest? No, he can hear lies, she hadn't been lying. He suddenly is aware that there are people walking around them. Has he performed some horrible Midgardian faux pas? He wouldn't have thought so based on the television shows he's watched, but then Darcy has informed him that they were distressingly inaccurate, and that the "third date rule was a load of toad droppings." He's not sure what the third date rule is...maybe it applies to kissing?

Pulling back he stammers. "Forgive me, maybe that was out of line?" Has he blown this chance even before they've had a "date". How typical.

"No!" Jane says, eyes wide. Her hands come out of her pockets and wrap around the back of his neck. She stands up on her tiptoes and looks up at him and he can't quite read her expression.

"That was perfect," Jane says, biting her lip.

His brow furrows. If it was so perfect, why isn't she kissing him back?

Her hands move to his cheeks, and her expression gets serious. "Loki, I'm standing on my tiptoes and I can't reach your mouth. Could ya' bend a little?"

He can't help it, he laughs.

"Hey, it's not funny!" Jane says. Dropping down to her heels she steps back she swats him across the chest.

Grabbing her hand Loki reels her in and wraps his arms around her. "I'm not laughing at you..." Loki says.

She raises an eyebrow.

He runs his hands down her back. Even if she is tiny, she is curved in all the right places. Bending at the neck he whispers, "I am just happy."

Janes mouth falls open as she cranes her neck to look up at him. That actually is very sweet.

Loki swallows. "Dr. Foster, to avoid neck injury to both of us - would it be alright if I picked you up?"

Jane laughs. "Yes!"

The arms on her back slide down. "I'm jumping!" she shouts, and does. Loki catches her, his forearms under her bottom, hands on the outside of her thighs, and she doesn't care if it's appropriate or not, she wraps her legs around his waist and he spins them both. Their faces are pressed together, forehead to forehead, and nose to nose, so she can't really see his expression, but she is grinning ear to ear. His body is lean, muscular and  _masculine_ beneath her.

Her fingers tangle in his hair. Her thumbs brush his cheeks; she can feel the delicious beginnings of stubble there. She wants to scrape her lips against it but his lips trap hers...and that's quite alright, more than alright. And it's quite alright if people are staring, because she's missed this - the feel of a man - and having a man to push her to be just a _little_ inappropriate.

With a final, gentle tug at Jane's bottom lip, Loki pulls back for air. Jane is tiny, but her form, under his hands, and against his body is hardly childlike. Her breasts against his chest are soft, and her hips beneath his fingers - he can't help himself, he gives a little squeeze to the curves there. She pushes against him and wraps her legs tighter. He stifles a groan.

"Perfect," he whispers.

She laughs and kisses his cheek. "Yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also write original fiction. My latest, "I Bring the Fire" is a bit "American Gods" meets "Another Fine Myth" (and a first novel, for all the energy and weirdness that entails). It stars Myth!Loki. [Read an excerpt here.](http://ibringthefireodin.tumblr.com/post/27868080954/fic-i-bring-the-fire-post-1)


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